New Beginnings
by PerfectSynchronicity
Summary: An imagining of what happened to Martha after the Series 3 finale. Of course, the characters here aside from Marquess Bowen are the property of the BBC.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first I've written here, so any constructive criticism would be welcomed. Rated M for future content. If you have questions or comments, feel free to contact me at 38**

Martha Costello stood on the pavement, gazing out across the Thames. In the space of a few hours she had lost so much: Billy, Sean and now even her livelihood. For the first time in her life, she really had no idea what to do.

One feeling resolved eventually resolved itself in the tumultuous mass of emotion: homesickness. For a while she considered moving back to Manchester, but quickly decided it would be too difficult to get the cases she wanted in a new city. After a while, she became distraught as it dawned on her that she was directionless for the first time she could remember.

An oddly familiar voice shook her from her reverie; 'Martha?' It called from behind her. She turned to see a large and expensive car pulled up at the roadside, and a familiar figure walking towards her. She immediately recognized him as one of her oldest friends at the bar: Dr James Bowen QC, though he had once been 'James' to her and she to him 'my White Rose'. They had attended bar school together and had even been in a brief relationship. She tried to speak but found only tears, weeping for her lost friends and livelihood. James instinctively took a few brief strides forwards and drew her into a long, passionate embrace. Nestling her head into a fur collared shoulder she heard him say 'it's been a long time Martha, and we still greet each other like this?' For the first time that day, Martha Costello laughed, and with that laughter she remembered that time she had spent with James as the best times of her life. 'I heard about what's been happening Marth, and I've got an offer for you: join me'. Overcome with emotion, she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed, half with sorrow and half with joy, until he guided her gently into the car and they set off together into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The first moments of consciousness the next morning were some of the happiest Martha had experienced for some time until she remembered what had been happening. She then realised something far more surprising: this was not her bed. She reached across the vast expanse to the next set of pillows to find a tiny envelope, she opened it to find a note written in a familiarly elegant cursive script: "gone for a walk, back in time for breakfast XX' on the other side was the single initial 'J' along with more kisses. Martha now remembered the events of the previous evenings, remembered James carrying her up the stairs, remembered curling up against him and feeling for once at peace.

Her fond recollections of the previous night were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. 'Ahem, Miss Costello, His Lordship wished me to inform you that I am at your service should you require anything.' Martha was stunned, she'd always known James was from old money, but not this old! She replied 'thank you, hold on, his lordship?'

'Indeed, His Lordship Carries the rank of Marquess of Hampshire through hereditary succession' came the stuffy reply as the owner of the disembodied voice proceeded down the hallway. Martha took a moment to take in what must have been 'Marquess Bowen's' bedroom: it was simply vast. Even the bed looked as though it could easily hold at least 4 people, and still seemed dwarfed by the scale of the rest of the room. She walked over to the wardrobe where there was another note. It read: 'thought you could use a new wardrobe'. A winking face was drawn on the other side, along with a few more kisses. Shaking her head in amusement and slight irritation, she opened the wardrobe and gasped at the assortment of suits and other clothing of varying elegance, all of which was, of course, from the very best designers the world had to offer. She noted with amusement she folded and ironed clothes from the night before hanging rather sadly towards the back, buried in Armani and Chanel. After taking some time, Martha picked out some clothes, performed the usual morning rituals, got dressed and walked into a spacious corridor.

A man in a pristine suit whom she quickly recognized as the owner of the disembodied voice instructed her to follow him to the dining room, whilst making a clumsy comment about her stylish appearance. Eventually, after a brief lift ride, they arrived in a large but somehow intimate dining room. James was already seated, checking his phone when they arrived, he looked up and whistled 'morning Marth, you look better in Gucci than I expected'. He paused for a moment, smiling, before brusquely saying 'Simpkins, you are dismissed, tell them they can serve breakfast now'

'Very good sir,' came the somber reply.

After a moment, a procession of assorted staff came filing in, carrying all manner of delicacies on sterling silver trays. 'Eat up' said James 'you'll need it.' Martha allowed her eyes to wander across the bevy of food that had been arrayed in front of her and made various selections, as she leaned across to fill her plate she found herself interrupted as one of the staff deftly transferred most of the things she had looked approvingly at. Whilst she had always disliked having things done for her, she couldn't help but be impressed by the efficiency.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before James finally said 'now, I thought we'd go to Shoe Lane first to hand in your resignation'- she tried to interrupt-'Martha, we both know you can't stay there anymore, it's for the best. Anyway, after that, I thought we could go to Bedford Row and you can take a look, how does that sound?' Martha, realising she had no better arguments or suggestions, could only agree.

As breakfast was cleared by the servile legion, they walked arm in arm to the door where a glittering black Porsche 918 stood waiting for them, a car, Martha couldn't help but notice, that cost more than her first or current houses. A man emerged from the interior, handed James the keys and strode inside the house. They both climbed in and James programmed the momentous destination into the sat-nav system. They drove off together, to start a new chapter in the life of Martha Costello.


	3. Chapter 3

Martha spent most of the journey lost in thought, she couldn't escape wondering why James was doing all this, why did he want her at Bedford Row? And what the hell was with those clothes? These questions and much more turned through her mind over and over until she eventually realised they had arrived. James put a hand on her shoulder which she quickly shook off. 'What is it Martha?' he said, looking more confused than anything else. She turned on him 'why are you doing this?'

'Doing what?' came the confused response

'All of it! The car, the job offer, these ridiculous clothes! You can't just come swanning back into my life like this and expect everything to be the same.'

James looked at her for some time, as if choosing how much to reveal, before he finally spoke 'I'm dying Martha, I don't just want you back in my life, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I need you, you're the only person I'd trust as my successor. If you aren't interested, fine. Just hand in your resignation in there and you'll never see me again. Otherwise, we'll talk.'

Martha sat in stunned silence for a moment 'how long do you have?'

'A few years at most, just think about it Martha, it's everything you always wanted. You're everything I'd want for Bedford Row if I wasn't there.'

She'd heard enough, she got out of the car and strode across the street ignoring the calls behind her. She opened the familiar doors of shoe lane and began to climb the stairs. Eventually, she came to the office at the end of the corridor, a man was just finishing painting the letters _'Clive Reader Q.C.'_ on the glass pane. He opened the door for her and she entered the familiar office to see an unfamiliar face. For the first time, it wasn't Alan Cowdery behind that desk, it was Clive. He looked up immediately exclaimed 'where the hell were you? We were out of our minds looking for you.'

'You noticed did you?' she said, feeling fresh anger coursing through her 'I thought you'd be too busy destroying Alan's legacy already'

'Times have changed Marth, we need to move on'

You might think that, but did it ever occur to you that I, or anyone else, might see things differently? Of course not, my mistake, you never could.' With that, she placed the letter on his desk, turned and left his office, ignoring his feeble pleas.

She left the building and hailed a cab 'St Thomas' Hospital please.' After a long and uncomfortable journey, she came to the vast building on the bank of the Thames. At least there was one person left she could still trust.

A long search eventually lead her to an intensive care unit. As she walked through the ward, a weak voice called out 'Miss?'

She turned to see her last real ally, fighting for his life in a hospital bed: Billy Lamb.


	4. Chapter 4

The hospital ward was filled with the familiar stench of disinfectant and sorrow. Martha sat and availed Billy of the situation, satiating the curiosity that seemed all he had left. He was frail and unable to provide her with anything more than nods, grunts, and monosyllabic utterances.

Suddenly, she was overcome by a single overpowering recollection: her father. She remembered James holding her in his arms by the hospital bedside, the reassuring feeling of his fingers through her hair.

For weeks, she had visited the hospital to see her father and, for most of those, James had accompanied her. At one point, he had even offered to pay for treatment. She had, of course, refused but never forgot the caring warmth in those usually cold blue eyes.

But for all his help, she never saw her father's last moments, and she suddenly got the feeling that she wouldn't see Billy's either. It dawned on her that she couldn't let a third man she loved die alone. She stayed with Billy a while longer before, with a final squeeze of his hand, rose and left the hospital.

It should have been a short drive to Mayfair, but to Martha, it felt like an age as she turned this decision over and over in her mind. Could she really go through with this?

Drawing up at the house, it dawned on her how palatial it was and, by extension, how far James had come since they had known one another. How far had she come? With one last deep breath, she walked up to the house. A familiar face loomed from behind the vast black door 'can I help you, Miss Costello?'

'Yes, Simpkins isn't it? Is Ja- sorry, Lord Bowen at home?' Simpkins looked at her for a moment before saying 'Indeed, His Lordship is on the terrace, press R in the lift.' He opened the door for her and showed her to the lift. Gathering her courage, she pressed the button and waited to ascend.

She found James slumped into a chair, nursing a deep snifter of brandy in one hand and a thick cigar in the other. A half empty bottle and a virtually full crystal ashtray stood on the table next to him.

'James?' A heavy white plume was the only response. She pressed further 'please, at least say something,'

'What is there left to be said? I would have thought you'd made your views quite clear by now'

'Be reasonable James, it was hardly a good time to bring these sorts of things up'

'Well, that's the thing about death, isn't it? It's rarely convenient.'

She couldn't help but smile at that, she'd always loved his unfailingly dry humour.

'If the offer's still on the table, I'll take it'

At that, James placed his snifter on the table, laid the cigar in the ashtray and rose from the chair. He turned to face her, she suddenly realised how old he looked. That face, once so bright and full of life, now appeared pale and drawn. More than anything, those warm eyes had become hard, jaded almost.

'What's the catch, Martha?'

'Still as cynical as ever I see, I don't want any special treatment. And what happened that night will never, ever happen again'

'Alright then, I can accept that. Will you stay for a drink?'

'This isn't leading to anything is it?'

'Of course not'

'Beer then.'

James picked up what appeared to be a remote control, pressed a button and waited a few moments. Eventually, Simpkins appeared.

'You summoned me, my lord?'

'Indeed, beer for Miss Costello please'

Of course sir, The German ale perhaps?'

James looked to Martha 'Is German ok?'

She scoffed 'Christ James, you don't even drink beer like a normal person'

'Would you expect me to?' he said with mock reproach

She laughed and sat with him. They sat and drank together for some time before, with more reluctance than she expected, she made to leave.

'See you tomorrow Marth'

Bye James, oh and one more thing,'

'Yes?'

'Don't buy me any more bloody clothes!'

His laughter filled her ears as she walked back to the car


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning found her waking in a decidedly more disappointing bed, she performed her usual morning routines and was walking to the hall when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She opened it to see a servile looking man standing on her doorstep. He spoke in clipped tones 'Ms Costello?' She suddenly noticed the large and expensive saloon rumbling outside and realised that James had sent her a car. She slammed the door in his face and called 'His Lordship'. After a long wait, the familiar voice greeted her 'Marth? Has the car arrived yet?'

'Yes, it has' she said coldly

'What's the trouble?'

'The trouble is that I don't need a bloody car! Much as you may think otherwise, I can drive myself'

'Fine, I take your point, I'll deal with him'

'Good' she hung up, irritated. After the car had rolled away, she walked out to her car, punched the directions into the sat-nav and drove to Bedford Row.

The car arrived at the vast, elegant townhouse in the centre on Inner Temple that constituted Bedford Row. It amused her that, after all, those times she and James had gazed at it from the nearby pub and dreamed of ending up there. Naturally, with his contacts, James had secured an easy pupillage and Martha, just as naturally, had not.

She crossed the pavement to the front door, which opened for her to reveal a crowd of smiling faces. James was standing by the door as she came in and, with an almost theatrical tone, announced 'ladies and gentlemen, I give you our newest member of chambers: Martha Costello!'

As the crowd dissipated, he led her to the upstairs offices for the QCs. She had been, supposedly coincidentally, placed next to James' vast corner suite. Her office was large, comfortable and private, everything she would once have wanted, though now she had it she couldn't help but realise how much she missed her banter with Clive.

There was a knock at the door, and a tall aristocratic man strode into the office holding a bulging, red-ribboned brief. He spoke in airy, upper-class tones 'good morning Miss Costello, my name is Martin Urquhart, senior clerk of Bedford Row chambers. His Lordship thought it best you get this as soon as possible, the trial is in three weeks'. With that, he turned and made to leave. She called after him 'even you call him 'His Lordship'?'

'Of course' came the abrupt response. Martha stared at the door, noting just how far from Billy this 'Mr Urquhart' appeared to be.

As soon as she took the ribbon of the brief, her mouth fell open in shock at the two names presented to her on the front of the vast document:

 **Lord James Bowen QC**

 **Ms Martha Costello QC**


End file.
